Live! From four miles away! It’s Saturday Night!

I’m the only person I know of that admits to regularly watching Saturday Night Live. I have for years. It's not necessarily high-frickin'-larious, or great TV, or even my favorite show. But I buy into it; I treat it like an event. For me, it's a pop-culture event. I watch SNL just as I subscribe to Entertainment Weekly. I watch to be plugged in. And I'm familiar with cast members from season to season. I was flabbergasted and impressed that Amy Poehler was upgraded from featured player to regular player in the middle of her first season. I felt for Chris Parnell when he was mysteriously fired mid-season one year and Will Ferrell made them rehire him; and on Ferrell’s last show, Parnell thanked him. I love when Alec Baldwin hosts. Or Chris Walken. Most of all, I think I watch because it’s frickin’ live. It’s live. Someone actually said to me once, “It’s not really live, though, is it?” People, it’s live television. Wigs are donned and sets are moved during commercial breaks. Lines are written last minute. The show is longer when they do their dress rehearsal hours earlier and then sketches are cut before the real show. Cast members celebrate afterwards way into Sunday.

I live for the moments when things go wrong. I actually wasn’t ever annoyed when Jimmy Fallon and Horatio Sanz fumbled and bumbled their way through a sketch. From watching the show it seems that Sanz tends to surprise his co-stars frequently because no one is safe from breaking around him. The “Debbie Downer” sketch with Lindsay Lohan where Rachel Dratch could barely get through it for reasons unclear is a favorite of mine. Tina Fey is my hero and I wish we were BFF (we’re kinda neighbors, but a BFF that does not make). Alas, these are all now ex-cast members.

Even in the ‘80s, my god, the turbulent ‘80s. I remember that strange Hollywood season when for some reason Robert Downey, Jr., Anthony Michael Hall, Randy Quaid, and Joan Cusack, along with more obscure players like Terry Sweeney (who was refreshingly, unapologetically out of the closet) were all in the same cast. I was a kid and a fan, and remember watching and re-watching my videotapes of shows that Madonna hosted (newly wed to Sean Penn) as well as Pee Wee Herman. I remember Julia Louis-Dreyfus having nary a thing to do on the show in the days of Eddie Murphy and Joe Piscopo, but Larry David was on the writing staff that year and years later, a Seinfeld star was born. I remember Janeane Garofolo's one short season, and at different times all three Spinal Tap-pers were cast members. Whatever happened to Jeff Richards? Drunk Girl was a scream.

So, as the premiere of the 32nd season begins tonight, I will be watching. I may not be watching live, but my VCR (oh, god of Tivo, please grant me one wish!) will be working its magic. I will be observing the new dynamic of the drastically smaller cast (alas, Parnell, fired once more. Time for him to move on). I will keep my eye on Seth Meyers, the new Tina Fey. Meyers will no longer be in sketches but quite frankly, I won’t miss him in any. I look forward to the calm zaniness of Kenan Thompson and Jason Sudeikis. Kristin Wiig, as the newest woman, upholds the standard of the modern-cast female excellence set in the ‘90s by Molly Shannon, Ana Gasteyer, and Cheri Oteri. Will there be no new featured players due to the NBC budget cuts? I will find out. For some geeky-ass reason, I need to know.

Sure, I will wish some things were funnier, and I will enjoy the things I do find funny; but as usual, I will have no expectations. Where Johnny Carson was an institution in the household of my youth, Saturday Night Live has managed to become a staple in the household of my adulthood. I didn’t plan it, but it has happened.

Feel like a writer

My friend Jill e-mailed me out of the blue to say that she came across a short play I wrote over two years ago. I had forgotten about it. It was based on a myriad of blind dates I had gone on via an online personals website, and I'm heavily quoting our real conversations.

I'd given Jill a copy because she was looking to turn an original short play into a musical; but she didn't pick mine. All she wrote was, "Just re-read your five-minute play. It made me laugh out loud (The People's Court scene!) It's soooo good."

Man, that just made my month! I need to dust that shit off and look at it. And write more. You know, now that I think of it, it would make a better short film than a short play, by FAR. Okay, I'm off. Got things to do!

False sense of security?

From CNN.com:

BAILEY, Colorado (CNN) -- The gunman who shot and killed a high school student after holding her and five other girls hostage had asked for students by name, a Colorado county sheriff said Friday.

Duane Morrison, who killed himself after fatally shooting Emily Keyes, 16, molested all six girls, said Park County Sheriff Fred Wegener. The sheriff didn't know "how much or to what degree."

Morrison had gone up to a male student and asked about the identities of "a list of female students," Wegener said. He didn't know which, if any, of the girls he took hostage in a classroom were on that list.

Investigators were aware of rumors that Morrison may have researched his victims on MySpace.com, an online community that allows users to post personal pages and network with friends, Wegener said.

This makes me very wary of how personal and forthcoming I get on this here blog. I feel very safe for now, but there are many people who lurk and don't comment, and those people may be friends, or they may be "evildoers." It is very vulnerable, this public thing called the internet.

Thought of the day

There's nothing like staring an extremely unflattering picture of yourself in a swimsuit thinking, "Hm, I've been working out lately but have nothing to show for it, look at that whale!" while downing a package of Cheetos and a beer (does lite balance it out?) at almost midnight.

Christ help me. Where's that chocolate? Ah, here.

I guess I'm It

I'd been tagged by Shari. I guess Blog etiquette dictates that I play. So, please, crack open a beer, relax, and indulge me these TWENTY-SEVEN questions that I've answered that I suppose are an insight to my character, my personality, my inner being. Then scroll to the bottom to see if you're It, 'cause I'd hate to go through this alone.

1. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?

There was this guy, Mattie (real name, cuz real asshole) who worked at the live show I was doing in San Diego for corporate clients. The show was extremely ambitious. Several cameras, “news anchors,” a “roving reporter,” my segment which were some actors pretending to be consumers, just huge. During rehearsal, Dude comes up to three of us waiting around condascendingly asking, “And you guys are with...?” We’re like...”Uh, we’re the actors...” then he gets real “friendly” and says, “I’m Mattie. This is my show, so...” which I don’t know what he meant by that. Maybe he fancied himself the director. I don’t know.

When it came time to tech my monologue, they told me where to sit, and Mattie was conferring with Alex, the writer/director of my segment. “How long is this one?” Mattie asked. “Little over six minutes. All these monologues are around six,” Alex answered. “Jeez, Shakespeare only wrote one-minute monologues, you know. Why are these so long?” I shot a look at Alex, whose look spoke volumes. Mattie then turned to me: “You got some Shakespeare for me?” “No.” “Why not?” Then he began reciting some Shakespeare himself. Oh, frustrated actor, are we? Angry at everyone for depriving you of your livelihood, are you? Later when all was said and done and he’d berated everyone, he ended the evening with, “Great job, everybody. Really good stuff.” Thus was his M.O.: slap his dick around, then comfort us later. I WOULD HATE TO BE HIS SIGNIFICANT OTHER.

The next day, performance day, one of the “newscasters” had improvised a joke during the show. He came off stage giggling and said to a colleague, “Did you hear the joke I slipped in there?” Mattie suddenly showed up, “You can’t make jokes like that. You never know who’s out there. You can’t make jokes like that.” We all looked like each other like, "It may be in a pin-striped suit today but it still smells like an asshole.”

Oh, Mattie. You can eat me. And by the way, Shakespeare wrote soliloquies that are longer than one minute. Don’t know if you’ve ever read or seen one.

2. You can flip a switch that will wipe any band or musical artist out of existence. Which one will it be?

Paris Hilton.

3. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?

Tom Cruise during his Today show debacle, which by the way I was the first one to hear, because I transcribed the raw footage at work before it aired. So, I was the first one to realize how far off the deep end he was. The next day the nation was quoting words that I typed.

4. What is your favorite cheese?

Brie. Stilton. Whatever, I have two!

5. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your immediate disposal. What kind will you make?

Roast beef, cheddar, raw onions, lettuce, tomato, mayo and mustard on sourdough or rye.

6. You have the opportunity to sleep with the movie celebrity of your choice. We are talking no-strings-attached sex and it can only happen once. Who is the lucky celebrity of your choice?

Why only once? That’s hardly fair. Patrick Dempsey...?
{Editor's note - Clive Owen! Clive Owen! That GQ cover alone is enough to send me into palpitations.}

7. You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who do you pick?

Jamie Foxx. LL Cool J. Justin Timberlake.

8. Now that you've slept with two different people in a row, you seem to be having an excellent day because you just came across a hundred-dollar bill on the sidewalk. Holy shit, a hundred bucks! How are you gonna spend it?

Get a massage.

9. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

London. Never been to Europe.

10. Upon arrival to the aforementioned location, you get off the plane and discover another hundred-dollar bill. Shit! Now that you are in the new location, what are you gonna do?

Dinner (Indian) and a show.

11. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. It is...?

That’s a bit overkill. Any kinda pale ale for when I wanna wind down after a long day.

12. Rufus appears out of nowhere with a time-traveling phone booth. You can go anytime in the PAST. What time are you traveling to and what are you going to do when you get there?

Turn of the 20th century New York and San Francisco, going to familiar areas and videotaping daily goings-on.

13. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place?

I’d enforce fairness above all else.

14. You have been given the opportunity to create the half-hour TV show of your own design. What is it called and what's the premise?

My friends and I have actually batted around real ideas. One of them was based on our current friendship that began as undergraduates in college. The show would flash back between now and then. Two of us are now married and two of us are not, and it would include those adventures, clarified by flashbacks, when we were dating each other.

15. What is your favorite curse word?

Fuckin’ A. Or sometimes just Crapola will do.

16. One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren't really doing anything, they're just standing around your bed. What do you do?

Ask what they want, see if they say/do anything. Tell them to leave. If they don’t leave, light my sage and chase them out. Clap loudly, for the auditory chasing-out.

17. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don't worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely.So what's the item?

Photo album/scrapbook.

18. The Angel of Death has descended upon you. Fortunately, the Angel of Death is pretty cool and in a good mood, and it offers you a half-hour to do whatever you want before you bite it. Whatcha gonna do in that half-hour?

Jump out a plane, or bungee jump, or have sex.

19. You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what's even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What's it gonna be?

The ability to will myself hither and yon without having to walk/travel there. Just duck into an alley, close my eyes, boom, I’m home.

20. You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

Thanksgiving ‘82. Dad was in remission from his leukemia. We drove to our friends’ for dinner but were too early so we sat in the parked car. Nick, who was barely two years old, began singing a made-up song that went, “A family, a family, we’re all together.” We laughed and started singing along. Dad died less than a year later.

21. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? (the answer "nothing" doesn't count)

The animosity between me and my grandmothers.

22. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit... you can move to anywhere else in the world! Bitchin'! What country are you going to live in now?

Australia. The men are sexy.

23. This question still counts, even for those of you who are under age. Check it out. You have been eternally banned from every single bar in the world except for ONE. Which one is it gonna be?

A pool bar in Hawaii.

24. Hopefully you didn't mention this in the super-powers question.... If you did, then we'll just expand on that. Check it out... Suddenly, you have gained the ability to FLOAT!!! Whose house are you going to float to first, and be like "Dude, check it out... I can FLOAT!"?

Who wrote these questions to sound like a 19-year-old male?

I would float far from my neighborhood to test it out, then land at my friend Rodney’s apartment and tell him I just floated there, that he wishes he were me, now who wants to touch me?

25. The constant absorption of magical moonbeams mixed with the radioactive vegetables you consumed earlier has given you the ability to resurrect the dead famous-person of your choice. So which celebrity will you bring back to life?

JFK Jr., cuz he was mighty, mighty fine.

26. The Celestial Gates of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn't think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person, etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?

Dad, cuz it would be nice to get to know him as an adult.

27. What's your theme song?

Even though the lyrics are about finding love, I love (cornily) Dreams by Gabrielle for how I feel when I hear it, and I equate it to any dream coming true, not just finding love. My theme song is definitely not a certain ditty by Dexy’s Midnight Runners.

Aright, my peeps. I'm tagging:
Nick
Steigfried
and Jawamily.
Steig might be a little indisposed, and all of you would be going against your blog styles, but hey, you're tagged, and now you'll feel guilty if you don't do it. Just copy and paste. And yes, I would've also tagged you, Kirk, but you were already tagged. Soooo popular. Enjoy, suckahs!

I woke up today and it's almost October

* Just returned from my first-ever trip to San Diego. It was for business but I convinced Mom to come down from NoCal and I extended my business trip to almost a weeklong vacation. It was nice. Can I say underwhelming zoo, folks? The Bronx Zoo is way comparable. Just sayin'. I know sightseeing tours can be corny but the Old Town Trolley Tour kinda kicked ass. Especially because Mom can't walk much, it was the perfect way to see the city without having to figure out how. Now I gotta lose the vacation weight I put on. Darn.

* I really dislike that nagging anxiety I get when a long trip is about to end and I am trepidatious about returning to my real-life responsbilities and anxieties. Don't I have a life that I'd love to return to? So, what's that about? It's like that "first day in a new school" anxiety. Not fun.

* I sat next to two restless 8-year-old boys on the plane for over four hours. I was sitting on the aisle. Whenever they had to get up to go to the bathroom or visit the other members of their party, they would just walk past me - no "Excuse me," no nothin'. Then when one of the moms came by to tell her son something (why were they not together in one miserable row?), she would point and talk and her arm was in the way of Mission Impossible: 3, which I was by this time fully invested in. I totally clucked and moved my head to obviously say, "Nice, lady. Just interrupt my movie-watching to say something to your unlikeable kid. I win today all around."

* I heard a couple having sex in the hotel room next door one night. I was trying to be annoyed but I was instead extremely aroused. I think because I know what I'm feeling when I sound like she did, so I could only imagine the orgasms. It raised the bar on my masturbation habits.

* I love outdoor hot tubs.

* I know my cat has missed me when the day or two after I return from a trip, he hangs out in the kitchen meowing forlornly, as if he's asking for me. I have to verbally reassure him several times that I'm home now, it's okay, before he quiets down.

* To my pen pal, I'm still falling hard for you. The poem's pushed off the page but my feelings aren't.

* To my disappointment, I learned that Mom and I don't see eye-to-eye on some things. But we do see eye-to-eye on trying to. So, that'll do.

* Bin Laden might already be dead? Come on, people.

* I want to be in the fetal position in my bed for two days. Then I want to stick my head in the sand for another day. Then I'll be ready to deal with being back home.

* Summer's officially over. *sigh*

Wait a minute, Mr. Postman

It's the last summery day of the year, they keep saying on the news. So, I put on a halter top (which I admit has a little bit of cleavage) and some sandals for what they say is the last time and walked out to enjoy the sun. After running an errand I walked toward the post office, which would be a block out of the way from the subway but thought it would be worth it just to get my stuff mailed. But then I noticed a postman walking toward me with his wheely-thing that has mail in it. I took out my mail and when I got close to him, said sweetly, "Can I give these to you to mail?" "Sure," he said. And I suddenly realized how handsome he was, and the friendly way he acted made me swoon. The interaction was so quick, we didn't even really stop walking, though. "Thanks so much," I said, and kept walking. A few steps into walking away I wish I wasn't so hasty, and I decided to look back at him; I mean, maybe I dropped a letter, or maybe one of them's missing a stamp, and he's calling out to me, but I can't hear him 'cause of my iPod. Right as I looked back, he looked back too. I whipped my head back around in embarrassment. Now, I don't know if he was checking me out, but I thought it was mighty coincidental that we both decided to look behind us at the same time. Oh, does summer have to end?

Oscar

Love of my life.
Three years ago
I ventured to Weehawken, New Jersey
To bring home a kitty.

I was cat-sitting a sweet feline named Boo
Who instantly loved me
She greeted me when I came home
And when I got into bed to watch TV
She happily joined me.

"I could do this on a permanent basis," I thought.
So I vowed to get my own pride and joy
When Boo went back home.

But the opportunity came sooner.
And to Weekawken I traveled.
I knew there were three of you
Visions of one of you choosing me danced in my head
I couldn't wait to see who it would be.

I walked in to where you were.
Big adults walking into your space.
You were three pounds light
Chillin' out by the food.
Looked up at us, like, "Need somethin'?"
No feathers ruffled.

"There's one!" I smiled.
Someone went to look for the others.
I needed to be chosen.
It couldn't be this easy.
But it was.
They couldn't find the others.

I picked you up, put you in a bag
You fell asleep.
Didn't care.
I loved you.
Got rid of your fleas,
Took you home.

Boo was unhappy
I felt really bad
But had no choice
When it's time to bring home your boy,
It's time.

When Boo left
It was you and me against the world
I named you Oscar
I wanted to give you a human name
Like Gary
Or Francis
Something that would make me laugh
Every time I said it
None of this "Snowball" shit

I settled on Oscar
Kind of in the middle
You were so tiny
That when I held you,
I thanked the Academy.

Joke's on me
You greet me when I come home
Only when you feel like it
And when I get in bed to watch TV
You have better things to do
You don't like to cuddle
But humor me and let me kiss you
For only so long
You are to be admired.

Well, I am all too happy to do so
What did I do without you
Handsome kitty?
When life hands me lemons,
You are my lemonade.

You let me sing silly songs to you
Even though you kind of roll your eyes
And you know your name, Oscar
Even though I call you
Sweet Pee Pee
Poo Poo
Bum Bum
Pumpkin Poo
Is that contempt on your handsome face?
Okay, I deserve it

I'm so happy to see you when I come home
When you take the bed over
Right in the middle
Glad I'm not there
It makes me laugh

I love you
I love you so much
Thank you for being you.

So worried

My baby brother Nick is no longer a baby, but a bona fide, card-carrying member of society who lives in his own apartment with a girlfriend and a dog, and makes more money than his big sister. *sigh* Anyway, he also is a skilled writer with a blog, and today wrote a post about his experience on 9/11/2001, which I actually never knew. It was hard to read a little, when it got to the parts of worrying about me. Just one of many of this country's stories of disbelief, horror and heartbreak. Thanks for sharing, Nick.

Thoughts of the day

Thank you so much, Kirk, for your moving tribute to my own 9/11 tribute on your blog. Your e-support is greatly appreciated.

The weather doesn't know what to be. Is it autumn? Is it summer? It's both. It's hermaphrodite weather. I just like that word.

I've been an independent woman (cue Destiny's Child) for several years now. Paying my own rent, living on my own in the urban jungle, having pride in not depending on anyone. Well, where my future husband at? 'Cause I hate to be alone when:

• The bulbs go out on my high-ceilinged light fixtures. When I get on my tallest chair to change 'em, I'm still precariously on my tippy-toes.
  
• I need to flip the mattress around. Christ almighty, that takes longer than it needs to.
  
• I have to get rid of really heavy things, like old desktop computers. I had one collecting dust for years until my friend Peter just picked it up and took it outside by the garbage. Like it was nuthin'.
• My vibrator is just too imperson...oops, too much information. Okay, that's a different kinda husband duty. Heh heh, "doody."
• Oh yeah, and emotional intimacy and companionship, yada yada yada.

Also, I would really, really like to have more money right now. Is that too much to ask?

Five years later

In September of 2001, I wrote the following e-mail to friends and family. I am reprinting it here:

Dearest family and friends,

My brother asked me how I’ve been since the attack. Loaded question. Everyone in NYC has a harrowing where-they-were story. Mine is a where-I-wasn’t: I live by myself on the upper west side of Manhattan. With nowhere to be on Tuesday morning, I slept peacefully through the atrocity transpiring a mere few miles away. I also did not lose anyone close to me. How? How could I be so oblivious and so lucky? How could I sleep through genocide? Oh sure, my mother and brother were calling me to see if I was okay, but I turn my ringer off when I go to sleep. There was no hubbub outside my window. No one came to me in a dream and said, “You better wake the hell up and turn on the TV,” which I’m open to, being a Pisces. I even recall feeling deliciously rested before learning about hell on earth. I feel so stupid about that.

I used to work at One Financial Square, right near the attack site (I hate the dumbass phrase “ground zero”). Would I have run for my life were I still down there? Uptown feels far away, and it’s easy to go about my business as though this happened somewhere else. There’s no smoke up here, no “missing” posters, no suddenly homeless and jobless families, no ash and rubble, no visible altered skyline. I live as I always have. But it feels wrong to live as before.

I ventured to a ghost-town Times Square that Wednesday, marched into a tourist-trap gift store, and bought a mini-World Trade Center for ten bucks. I proudly display it atop my computer. On Thursday I headed downtown just to be closer. South of Union Square, where a big makeshift gathering place made a home, streets were closed to traffic, so pedestrians took over. I smelled that burnt-wire smell, watched people run errands wearing surgical masks, and observed the smoke further down through some buildings. Bill Clinton suddenly appeared, joining everyone’s dazed, somber, quiet destination-less walk like Joe Citizen, just talking to people, crowds forming around him, Chelsea waiting patiently off to the side. No media at all, if you can believe it. I saw him through the crowd even though I’m short. He felt my pain. I was comforted. His nose looked big. His hair’s really white.

That night, my shock wore off. I cried myself to sleep while God spoke in the form of a thunderstorm. I hoped he was telling us we would be okay, but I wasn’t sure. On Friday I received a gag gift from my friend Maria in the mail, a Powerpuff Girls watch. I’ve worn it since. “Saving the World Before Bedtime” is their motto. We could use all the help we could get.

A friend told me that someone she knows in L.A. doesn’t seem to get it. He presumes that “New Yorkers are feeling what we did after the big earthquake” a few years ago. Yeah, what a stupid thing to say, I thought. But later I was angry. Don’t compare this to something else, something different. You don’t know how I feel.

So, now what? I’m depressed. Because as everyone “returns to normalcy,” I remember now that before the attack I was at the bottom of the roller-coaster of emotions that comes with living the predictably unpredictable life of an actor, engulfed in self-pity. Then I was distracted, and things were put in perspective. And now I return to self-pity, and it’s worse because it seems so petty. I cry unpredictably and in short bursts. I’m scared of the idea of war and more deaths. I’m disheartened by the racism that still exists. I’m spooked by loud sounds and I watch airplanes overhead. I enjoy giggling when something’s funny. I’m too distracted to read books. I haven’t listened to music again, really listened. I want to live my life now with a greater purpose but I don’t know what that is. I knew what it felt like to truly live in the moment for a couple of days. And the weather here has been unbelievably gorgeous. Still grieving. The best thing is to be with people.

I love you all!!
Eileen

Let's now take care of our first responders and volunteers who are sick and dying from breathing in pulverized glass, asbestos, concrete, and chemicals from working for months on the "pile." The fight continues. They are all in my thoughts.

R.I.P. Adriana Legro from Queens, NY, with whom I attended St. Michael's School, Kaye's Dance Studio, St. Agnes Academic School, and Boston University, who died in the towers on 9/11. You will always be remembered. My retrospective about Adriana written last January is here .

Cooler than movie stars

Years ago I was sitting on the subway, minding my own business. The man across from me was smoking a cigarette. Gross, and illegal. But as usual, no one was really saying anything, just thinking the same thing and avoiding him. The young guy next to him had his headphones on. I barely noticed him and the guy sitting next to him. Next thing I know, one guy took out a pad, headphone guy took off his headphones, and they both started talking to the guy. Holy shit, undercover cops! I was flabbergasted. Never witnessed them before. Which is the point, since they're supposed to be undercover.

Flash forward to tonight. I'm on the subway, sitting close to a guy full-on sleeping stretched out on the seats. I thought, I hadn't seen that in a long time. Wow, just taking up space like that. Is he homeless? Is he a junkie? Hard to tell. Probably a junkie, probably not homeless, I surmised. Anyway, even though he wasn't actively bothering anyone, I noticed that I'd look over at him now and then, feeling vulnerable. If anyone can just do this even though they shouldn't and there's no one around to enforce rules and stuff, what else can happen? I looked at other riders. I was very aware of being underground. Maybe post-9/11 jitters.

Coupla guys standing near him were Joe Six Packs, outta shape, wearing long shorts and Yankee jerseys and one of 'em had a visor. Spending a Saturday afternoon in Manhattan and going back home to Harlem or the Bronx, one could easily speculate. As we chugged along into a station, two of the guys started to wake the guy up. "Come on buddy, wake up. Wake up." I was so confused. Were they friends with the guy, and let him sleep and told him they'd let him know when they were home? So odd. Then I saw a third guy, dressed the same, with his badge around his neck. Holy cow, cops again! So cool! All three of them had their badges out (I guess they hide them til they need to?). The guy woke up and sat up. "No, we're gettin' off. We're gettin' off," the cop said in a thick New Yawk accent. So, they did. I just wanted to get off with them and watch them ask the guy questions. The rider next to me looked at me with wide eyes. "Wow," I said back to him. I was so impressed.

Thank you NYPD, for lots of things.
Especially as we approach a certain anniversary.
I appreciate you.

Sowed seeds

I am thrilled to report that as September begins, the actions I have taken in the past few months toward changing my life for the better are coming to fruition! The Year of the Dog has truly been on my side. I meditate every day and visualize how I want my life to be, in the present tense, even if it doesn't look or feel that way yet, and it's helped me calmly assume that what I do want is inevitable. And darn if they're not manifesting. Career-wise I'm busier, the phone is ringing, I'm being proactive. Health-wise, I'm exercising, I have a better relationship with my appetite and food in general. Psychologically and emotionally, I'm expressing my feelings more easily and taking risks in order to deepen relationships. I actually have men on my radar, yes, MEN, those things that make my skin tingle and make me feel juicy all over sometimes. Usually, the number of men in my life are...negative zero. So, this is a real treat. Keep true to yourselves, people. We'll get through this long, hard slog together and hopefully with some laughs in between.

Pen pal

We've never met
And live far apart
But we write every day
Like when I was ten
I'd check my mailbox
During the summer
To see if my cousin wrote me
Our letters were funny and fun
I lived for them.

But this is different
Grown man and woman
Living the adventure of our lives
"How was your date?" you'd ask.
"Okay, how was yours?"
"Just okay."

We act like we'll always have each other.

"Don't feel bad about her, you can do better."
"Don't give him all the power, he needs to work hard for you."
And at the end of the day I rush home
To see if you've written

"Why can't I just be dating you?"
"I just want to build you a house instead."

We can't though.
It's a nice thought.
Fantasies are great for that,
For being unrealistic.

You're a wonderful support
But
How am I supposed to fall in love with someone else
When I wonder if I should be with you?

Like the lame premise of a movie
Starring Bullock and Reeves

Is it healthy?

I'm addicted.

So, probably not.